


Interlude: Waiting

by Tipsy_Kitty



Series: Puppy Verse [7]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Puppy Play, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen waits and worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal 8/30/12.

Jensen was doing his best to hide his anxiety, but every day that Cindy’s report didn’t air, his dread was compounded. He just wanted it over with, wanted his betrayal exposed so Mark would get on with whatever hideous punishment he was sure to come up with. Even if Jensen didn’t survive it, at least he’d have performed some small act to shed light on what p.e.t.s endured, something that would maybe save Jared and the other p.e.t.s that polite society was doing such a banner job of ignoring.

He wondered what humiliating footage of him would be shown on the news and rebroadcast all over the world. Cindy had told him they’d try to hide his identity but _he_ would know. And his mom might know, if they showed the birthmark on his hip. He wished he had some way to prepare her.

He couldn’t decide which film clips would be the most appalling, there were so very many humiliations to choose from. The beatings and whippings and canings? The enemas or having chocolate licked out of his ass or being fucked while chained to a breeding bench like a reluctant purebred? Mark had documented hours and hours of his play time with Jensen.

And then there were all the video files that Jeff had shared with Mark. His stomach twisted a little at the thought of Jared, who might be splashed across the news with no warning. He wished he could tell Jared what was coming, tell him to brace himself, but of course he couldn’t. What was he going to do, pick up the phone and ask to speak to Jared? Ask if Jared could come out to play? That was as likely to happen as Mark drawing him a bubble bath and giving him a massage. Or just a fucking hamburger.

Besides, Jared hadn’t really seemed capable of basic human communication the last time Jensen saw him. He’d looked like a broken toy. All the more reason to try to stir up some outrage, try to get some sympathetic citizens on their side. He just hoped Jared’s owner wouldn’t be too angry. Jared could hardly be blamed for the leak, trapped as he was by his useless hands, the chains Jeff favored keeping him in, Jeff’s constant presence.

Every day nothing happened, and nothing happened, and still nothing, and Jensen continued to endure suffocating boredom one moment and Mark’s inventive methods of amusing himself the next.

Then one Thursday, about two weeks or so after he’d broken into Mark’s study to contact Cindy and tell her what she could find on Mark's hard drive, a feeling of unease stole over him. He couldn’t quantify it, didn’t even believe in stuff like a sixth sense, but he would have bet five more years in Mark’s service that tonight was the night.

He paced back and forth in the playroom. This was it. Mark could conceivably kill him after the story aired.

He paused beneath one of the small square windows. If this was his last day, he might as well make it count. He climbed up onto the leather couch and raised the window, pushed out the screen, and began to wriggle through to the other side. He fell hard on his hands, making his left wrist twinge, but he was outside, and he was away from Mark, and that seemed as good a last wish as he could hope for.

It was a warm afternoon for late April, although still he was chilled without clothing. He walked to the back of the property, as close as he dared to the electrified perimeter.

He lay back on the soft grass next to a flowering shrub that smelled like almonds.

He breathed deep the sweet spring air, and tried to empty his mind of worries about what was to come. He couldn’t take it back now, and he wouldn’t. He had no illusions that his act of defiance was going to change very much for all the suffering p.e.t.s, but still it felt good to have acted, to have protested, to have _done_ something.

The sun would set soon. Jensen watched birds wheel around in the sky and waited for Mark to haul him back into the house.


End file.
